Uhura begged off accompanying the group to the photo shoot, citing the unpredictability of her innards. She promised to rest and meet up with them at the pool bar. The crew - and Carol - returned to their rooms to change and meet their obligations as Stafleet's newest stars.
"Spock - here's how this is going to flow. Don't let anybody touch you. Stay with your security escort; if they get mobbed, run like a cheetah.
"Have I made myself clear?"
"Nyota, I am not a child. My father is an ambassador; I have any number of experiences with social gatherings attended by Federation dignitaries and VIPs"
Nyota crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. The neck itch her death stare triggered distracted Spock's attention from her next words.
"Not like this you haven't. If I find out someone got their hands on your ass or you end up naked again, I will personally unscrew and remove my favorite parts of your Vulcan anatomy and I will sever our bond abruptly."
She explained her concern wasn't his discipline but that of the VIPs, celebrities and fans - he'd already lost his clothes four times in the last two weeks when his security detail got ambushed.
"You belong to me, Spohkh; I don't share."
Spock received the image she pushed telepathically - Nyota in a Valkyrie metal bikini, hair flowing and sword gleaming. The lace-up boots had him reconsidering his commitments for today. Her feral smile had the synapses in his brain negotiating for reassignment to his sexual pleasure center.
Empathically, Spock willingly absorbed every micron of the jealousy and possessiveness she felt.
"Clear?"
Love came through, communicated by her grin, her eyes and her mind. He congratulated himself again for choosing wisely on her 18th birthday.
"Clear, k'diwa."
So Spock stood in the rear during the photo shoot with the "Ms. Topless" winners.
Spock's location turned out to be a good choice: Scotty, being the shortest, got placed in the front. Every change of pose saw his ears nudged by nipples. Photographers and videographers had to wait out his beet-red blushes and Carol's swearing fits.
"If ONE more of you bimbos boxes his ears back with your bosoms, " Carol threatened, "I'll make your rooms disappear into a bloody black hole - while you're in them!"
A resourceful Spock used the local 3-D printer and self-adhesive paper to create attachable copies of his signature - the short, not-easily-counterfeited version. In this way, his line at the Rump 'Riting session emptied at a record pace without his touching a single proffered rump.
Jim Kirk provided an extra service: covering his lips in edible paint, Jim planted kisses next to his signature for a few lucky recipients. Things went along swimmingly until Jim changed colors and suffered a violent allergic reaction to the new paint. Several hypos (and a haranguing from McCoy) later a disappointed Jim returned, using only the provided pen.
Sulu and McCoy seemed most comfortable with the events so far.
Sulu wisely used the time between photo set-ups with the topless beauties to negotiate joint appearances with the Calendar Crew© and the buxom babes; he made an appointment to meet with their agent - Ms. Topless Omicron Ceti III (noting sagely that "three" applied to everything about her) - after dinner tonight.
McCoy, the consummate professional, diagnosed every malady he could identify on the scantily clad participants in the photo shoot and the autograph session.
When the Enterprise's CMO applied steroid cream - unasked - to the rear end of an autograph seeker (explaining it would treat the allergic rash from her breast implants) the concierge hastily declared the signing session over and moved the group along to the pool bar activities.